Time Lessens What Actions Heal

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
- Rose Kennedy

    This quote lingers in my mind like a menacing cloud over a cheery village. At any moment the bubble can burst and drown the joys away, taking with the outpour all hope and sanity that once thrived there. All it takes is one event to shatter our existence, changing the way we view the world as we knew it to be. Eventually the pain, as if under a heavy anaesthetic, will numb away, but the bitter thoughts will remain gnawing at our psyche. All we want is to feel normal, but normal is not a luxury we can afford. We can spend thousands of dollars on cars and clothes, but even those cannot mask the deeply seated wounds we harbour within ourselves. We wait for time to run its course, for it to come and sweep away all the cobwebs in our troubled lives, but waiting for time is just that --waiting.
    I bear the scars of my unhealed wounds like many humans do, but this is not my story. Sometimes I find my days stream like a series of events that somehow all connect and intertwine in some way of another. Today was one of those days.
    As I served salad at St. John’s Kitchen this afternoon, I was talking to “red persuasion”, another volunteer, and she told me about an incident that occurred the previous week. In her story, a woman in line threw her plate full of food at a man, and was later seen causing the same kind of ruckus and violence towards him. It was later understood that they had previously been in a relationship, one that obviously did not end well. The wounds from their broken relationship remain unhealed, and she cannot cope in a healthy way. Maybe in time the pain will lesson and she will be able to move on; however, I am not one to know for certain.
    Wounds were also excavated within the walls of my home today. For years one of my family members has struggled with some deeply rooted wounds that the rest of us are blind to because he refuses to let us in. We try to help, plead with him to get some professional help, but he refuses, claiming that there is no cure for his problems and that professionals know nothing about what he experiences because they have not lived it. Yet for years I see his body, his soul, and his personality drastically alter; even his views and beliefs shift almost daily. The problem is that he cannot see that what he is doing to himself is trickling down and damaging everyone in the household. He says that he is living for me, but what he does not understand is that I do not want anyone to live for me. I want them to fight for themselves, for the life they could have, alleviated from the wounds they carry. I believe time can heal some things, but sometimes time is not enough to tackle the bigger issues.
    This brings me to my questions about my upcoming experience at Reach Out. There, people are struggling with tremendous physical and psychological issues that stem from poverty, lack of education, poor health-care, HIV/AIDS, among others, yet everyone I speak to says the same thing: they are the most joyful, kind-hearted people you will ever meet. How does someone who suffers so much, for whom everyday is a battle between life and death, have the capacity to smile and exude so much happiness in their life? I cannot fathom this. Maybe money is the problem. Our society thrives on what we can get from those slips of green -- the power, respect, goods -- but what we do not gain is the release we desire from those suffocating, unsealing wounds, because the problem was never money in the first place. Money was only a smokescreen for the real issues at hand. Or maybe our society has become so self oriented, adopting too highly a survival of the fittest mentality, that we forget about the healing that can take place within a community like the one I will be a part of in May.
    I have not even stepped foot in the country yet, yet I desire something the Ugandan people have -- the ability to heal and live life joyfully, despite the hardships that they have come across, the hardships that threaten their lives. 

Cultural Etiquette: What Not to Do

    It is human nature to revel in rebellion; to feel that rush of excitement pulsing in your veins. You get a taste of that forbidden fruit, and like a leach, you cling, and refuse to unlatch until you are satisfied. But what if you are not a rebel? What if you are just a plain Jane, trying to glide below the radar. You do everything you think is right from the perspectives you have adopted over years of endless parental and societal grooming. Get ready to throw those teachings out the window for you are not in Kansas anymore. So clank those heals all you want, you cannot have your way this time. You are in Uganda now.
    I am quite known by my friends to do and say ridiculous things at any given time. While in Canada this can seem humorous, in a foreign country this may create conflict. Even things we Westerners would not think twice about here, may be considered offensive in another country. So I would like to dedicate this blog to cultural etiquette: the What Not To Do in Uganda.
    Sarcasm. While it is a cultural norm in the Western world to use this ironic tool, in Uganda it may not be understood in the same way as you intended it to be understood. This may cause you to offend people without intending to. To prevent this, avoid sarcasm!
    Greetings. Although handshakes are quite universal, refrain from using your left hand. It is interesting to note that when females greet other females, sometimes the left hand is extended over ones elbow while shaking hands. When greeting a male, handshakes are used if the women extends her hand first, if not, nodding is also acceptable.
    Personal Space. You do not have any, so get used to claustrophobia and hug-a-thons. From what I learned from Krista, a previous Beyond Borders student, Ugandan people are very friendly and will constantly try to hug you. When talking to you, people usually stand less than an arms length away, so get comfortable with people invading your personal space.
    Eye Contact. Prolonged eye contact can be seen as aggressive or even promiscuous, especially when directed at males. Often when talking to men, Ugandan women look down or away as to not cross these boundaries. This may be a challenge for me, considering that I stare at people all the time without even realizing I am doing it. Also, I am somewhat of a feminist, so the idea of women looking down when talking to men irritates me. However, I must remember that it is not my culture I am living in, I am there to be engrossed in Ugandan culture, and not there to offend anyone.
    Time. Expect Ugandans not to follow the same ticking clock as you. From what I have read and heard from Krista (as she told her story about having no one to greet her at the airport during her arrival), Uganda’s are not punctual. It is normal for them to arrive one or two hours after your scheduled meeting time. Interesting fact: those with higher statuses are late more than those from a lower status. This seems opposite from Western ideas, for Westerners are trilled about the importance of time management and punctuality, especially if of a higher position.
    Food. Avoid digesting ice cubes! The water can make you sick. This is one I would not think of.
    Clothing. A lot of leg is a big no, no. In Canada, it is so common to dress in shorts and miniskirts in the Summer, but in Uganda this can make you a target, especially if you have blond hair and light eyes. This may be unbearable because of the humid African weather, but it is better to be safe than sorry.
    Overcharging. This is not so much a what not to do, but more of a be aware that this will often occur. Locals will often try to overcharge you in taxi’s, shops, markets, etc., because as a foreigner you are automatically flagged as having more money. This will definitely be a challenge for me because I hate haggling, and avoid it when purchasing products.
    Gestures. Some gestures I found particularly interesting to read about because they are so different from North American gestures. The signal for “come here” is illustrated by facing one’s palm downwards and making a scratching motion with one’s fingers. Signifying with a palm facing upwards and flicking one’s fingers downwards can mean various things: “what’s up?”, “what?”, “sorry, what can I do?”, “you know”. While these two gestures are not particularly necessary things to know, they may be interesting to observe and understand while living there. Also, pointing with only the index finger can be viewed as a rude gesture, because it is a gesture used for pointing at animals. It is better to point with the whole hand. One gesture that might be useful for me is knowing how to hail a taxi. While there are different methods of doing this, such as pointing downwards to signify a short distance, or pointing with a flat hand at a waist height to signify a medium distance, pointing upwards repeatedly is strongly urged if you want to get a taxi quickly. This gesture signifies that you intend to travel a long distance, but even if you do not intend to travel to a far away location, taxi drivers will more readily stop because they have the potential to make more money. Another gesture that can be viewed as disrespectful is leaning on one’s left hand at the dinner table, or stretching out one’s legs.
    Religion. Religion is a large phenomena in Uganda, and one of the first things Ugandan’s will ask you about is what religion you are affiliated with. Westerners must watch what they say when talking about religious beliefs because it can offend someone from Uganda.
    Night crawling. Avoid traveling alone at night. In Canada I do not really think twice about this. This is not because Canada is not dangerous at night, but that my moms incessant paranoia about going out alone at night makes me want to rebel against her fear sometimes. However, being in a foreign country, I do not think this urge to rebel will be quite as strong.
    While this is probably not a conclusive list of things to avoid or be cautious of in Uganda, it covers the important points and helps me gain a greater understanding about the culture and customs of Africa. Although some items may seem ridiculous to Westerners, as a traveler, it is important not to push the boundaries that we would often push in our home countries. We are the guests, so we must abide by there rules even if we do not like them. The point of this experience is not to change their way of life or push Western beliefs onto them, the point of this experience is to be the foreigner; to see how it is living in their shoes, and to learn from their way of life. It is easy to just come in thinking we know everything, being from a developed country, but it is far more difficult to let the underdeveloped nations take us by the hand and lead us along their path in order to show us the flaws in our own society.
  
For further interest, also visit:
http://www.culturecrossing.net/basics_business_student_details.php?Id=30&CID=212
http://www.everyculture.com/To-Z/Uganda.html

Learn to Say Nkwagala

    All it takes is one word to engulf nations; one word to transcend the barriers of time and space. It is something universal, fundamental. Humans yearn to capture it, like children chasing fireflies-- with open jars and outstretched arms. They are mesmerized by that spark, projected from some mysterious inner source. A flicker of light, against a world shrouded in darkness. What they desire most is to feel that light flicker within themselves; a light to eliminate the encapsulating darkness they experience in their inner world. For some this word is nothing but a hallmark term; overused and oversold. For others it is one of joy, sustenance, and survival. This word simply put, is love.   
    Love is exactly what I witnessed today as I spent my Valentine’s Day afternoon volunteering at St. John’s Kitchen. Not even five minutes passed before a stranger came up to me-- all smiles-- as I was wiping down a table, and wished me a “Happy Valentine’s Day”. It was phenomenal to witness the power of that sentiment, alive in a place like a soup kitchen. This man did not know me, I have never met him; he is a visitor, I, a volunteer; but the exchange between us was not one of cynicism about a holiday known for its consumerism, the exchange was something deeper, more in-tune with a spirit of friendship that the holiday is meant to portray.
    The spirit of this day did not end there, for as I went around cleaning tables, a man I see regularly-- let us call him ‘Bob’-- sparked a conversation with me. Generally I would have simply answered with a one or two word response, but being there made me think about my purpose at St. John’s: it was to learn from people. So I asked him about his hobbies and interests (crafts, biking, reading), asked him about where he came from (Toronto), and learned his perspective on the world he lives in. What I learned is that Bob likes Kitchener because compared to Toronto, it is less polluted and less condensed with people and traffic. He also mentioned that in times when coming to a soup kitchen was necessary, the food in the Toronto soup kitchens was bland and not as nourishing as it is at St. John’s. It was so interesting to hear this perspective straight from his lips because when Joe and Rebbecca mentioned St. John’s as a nurturing community, it seemed more like their words spoke from a place where they wished it to be so. What I found even more astounding, was that this man, out of nowhere, produced a necklace for me to have. To have little, and to give regardless, that is truly the meaning of the word love.
    Aesthetics also sparked an interesting thought in me about the nature of Valentine’s Day. She told me a story about her dearest friend who died recently, and after her death she became really close with her friends children. So close in fact that the son asked her if she would be his sister. Then this morning, Aesthetics received a text from him asking if she would consider it incestuous if he asked her to be his valentine. Curious, she asked other volunteers what they thought, and all came to the conclusion that yes, it would be considered incestuous. After some thought, she disregarded their opinions. We think about Valentine’s Day as a day to celebrate the love between couples, but often forget about the love between those who have come together in another way. They are bonded not in consummate love, but in a mutual love for a person that passed, a person that in death, brought them together.
    With Valentine’s Day on my mind, I was curious about the Ugandan view on this day, and whether or not they celebrate it as we do. Robert Jamieson from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, pointed out that Kampala, the capital city of Uganda, comes alive and is transformed “into a giddy sea of red and black” (the traditional Valentine’s Day colours warn in celebration) on this day. Many say that the hype was brought over by American tourists and adopted by the younger generation of Ugandan people over the years. However, many older individuals criticize the craze that is associated with this day, considering it a “strange foreign habit”, one that “is a brief, giddy, respite from life that can be punishing here”. This shows an interesting perspective, that Valentine’s Day is ornamental and enchanting, yet it is a temporary euphoria against the problems that the country faces on a day-to-day basis, problems like war and HIV/AIDS.
    While I cannot argue against these opinions, I think a little enchantment is not a bad thing. Everyone needs escape once in a while, everyone needs to feel loved. Love has the power to transform, all we need to do is let it.

Hoarders

Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are. - Chinese Proverb

Pressure and stress is the common cold of the psyche. - Andrew Denton

    Humans are hoarders. Not of ratty, old clothes, or torn slips of scribbled on paper, or even boxed up memories, but of stress. We fill our minds like we do our closets. Stuff all our pains and tensions into one confined space. As an obstacle arises, we push it to the very back of that confined space so that we do not have to face it right away. What happens when that closet can no longer hold its contents? Will it simply explode or will it, like some work of magic, expand to hold what we force it to hold?
    This morning I felt like this metaphoric closet of mine was about to explode as I was reminded of what still needs to be done prior to departure. I could not help but zone out at times, as I began to feel my stress levels rise and could not channel it into something positive. Maybe that is the suppressor in me, shoving my tensions in the back of the closet. The thoughts of finances, immunization shots, flight arrangements, fundraising initiatives, filling out scholarships, finding answers to my questions, juggled between a full five subject course-load and work, hit me hard. I do not even know where to start, and that is what makes it overwhelming. There is so much to do and so little time to do it. What challenges me is not the task itself, but it is the stress of getting it all done that holds me back. I have never been very good at time management, although I am exceptional at procrastination and indecisiveness.
    Over the years I have acquired this not so pleasant art. It is as if my mind cannot function properly, cannot spit out what it needs to say until the pressure is on and time is ticking to a close. This procrastination is something I desperately need to work on, because it does nothing but make me stagnate and makes the tensions rise within my body. I thrive on pressure, but I wish I did not have to. This stress is something that I need to learn to mediate, especially now as my placement in Uganda inches closer and closer.
    There, I will not be able to push things back like I do way too often here, for I will be thrust into situations that may require rapid decision making and initiated actions. This scares me, but what I have learned this past year after some reflecting, is that juices flow when you are invested in something you love and when it is something you are passionate about. The beauty of words and how they can be strung together to create a tremendous effect is what kept me in my major; however, I often find myself bored. The courses that are required of me do not stimulate my mind like a good book or song does, and that is where my passion wavers. I feel like my brain retains nothing in those instances, and writers block ensues.
    My goal for the rest of this term is to somehow let go of some of those stresses; learn that I am not superwoman, I cannot do everything all at once. All I can do is remember how passionate I am about what the Beyond Borders students are trying to achieve, and take baby steps in order to meet my goal!